


Mets and Cooper’s Alternative Detective Agency

by Strudelmugel, TikolaNesla



Series: Mets and Cooper’s Alternative Detective Agency [1]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Detectives, Alternate Universe - Police, Australia, Detectives, Homelessness, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-16
Updated: 2019-10-05
Packaged: 2020-05-12 15:26:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19231864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Strudelmugel/pseuds/Strudelmugel, https://archiveofourown.org/users/TikolaNesla/pseuds/TikolaNesla
Summary: Logan was a single dad, wanting nothing more than to help, and Eduard was just trying to survive. A stolen bike case brings them together as it unravels into something far more sinister, and the start of something special.





	1. The Useless Thief

**Author's Note:**

> Hey y'all, it's ya gays Strudelmugel and TikolaNesla back with another OzEst fic that will probably be sad, and happy, and some dumb, horny humour will be coming out of Oz's mouth. OzEst is slowly picking up shippers now, so to the total three or so other shippers, enjoy! And to anyone who hasn't heard this pairing but is curious: please give this dumb ship a chance and maybe you'll like it.  
> Anyway, this is a detective au and touches upon some sad, yikes stuff, warnings will be added when needed.
> 
> ...
> 
> Logan - Australia  
> Harriet - Atlantium oc

“Bathroom’s down the hall,” said Logan, “kitchen’s to your right. It’s a box room, I’m afraid, but...” He trailed off, opening the door at the end of the hall. Eduard stepped into his new room, unable to even begin to know how to respond. 

He knew he was being stupid. He was making the exact same mistake, but he was too hungry, too tired, to care. Just like last time. And he hated how he was most likely sacrificing freedom for food. Eduard wasn’t a stupid, naive kid this time, but here he was.

“Dinner’s gonna be an hour,” Logan continued, “but feel free to have a snack, if you want. There’s bread, and…” He trailed off, biting his lip. “I’ll let you unpack.” Then he left.

Eduard stood in the middle of the room before sinking onto the bed. It was so, so soft. He’d forgotten what it was like to feel comfortable. He hugged his bag to his chest and looked around. It was a tiny room, just enough space for a single bed and one set of drawers. No personal touches, except a painting of Uluru opposite him. 

He didn’t want to unpack. It didn’t feel quite real, and he wanted to make sure he could make a quick getaway.

Logan poked his head back round the door. “I don’t mean to be, well… but feel free to use the shower before dinner. There’s a blue towel on the rack for you.”

 

* * *

 

Earlier that day, Eduard shuffled through the automatic doors of the local supermarket. The security guard looked at him like something he’d scraped off his shoe. Eduard pressed on, trying not to sweat or fidget. He took a breath, and walked calmly down the first aisle. He knew he was homeless, but a homeless person was allowed to go shopping, right? He desperately needed food.

Too desperately.

He had enough change for a chocolate bar. Proof he was buying something, and wasn’t suspicious. Even as a child, it always set him into a state of paranoia, leaving a shop without buying something, a precursor to anxiety. Or maybe he’d always had anxiety. 

He saw a tin of spam, and slipped it into his jacket pocket. Not too greedy now, just enough for a few days. Then maybe he could try begging. Maybe he could risk being out on a main street for a day.

Maybe he should just end it all. It wasn’t like anyone would mourn him.

It would solve a lot of crime, though.

He’d only felt that low once before, completely uninterested in what happened to him and whether or not he lived any longer. He just sighed and picked up a sandwich. He missed grainy, brown bread. Egg and cress, fancy. He glanced around before stuffing five chocolate bars down his trousers.

He didn’t bother with the fridge section. He needed food that lasted. Maybe, if he rationed, he could last for a week.

Maybe, he could get away with this.

“Sir?”

Eduard froze. “Yes?” It could only last so long, after all, the perfect crime. He wasn’t exactly inconspicuous.

“Are you paying for that?”

He pivoted on his heel to see a young man, not more than 18, looking straight at him suspiciously, like he’d been waiting for this. Had he been following him around the store, or had Eduard not noticed a camera?

“…Yes.” He was out of practice, lying. He’d been so good at it as a kid.  _ No, mother, I’ve never drunk an alcohol in my life. _

He considered his escape routes, thinking about handcuffs and ways to incapacitate a man with a pen. Or maybe he should give himself up; there was food in prison. There was also the chance of him not lasting more than a day. But if he tried to escape, the security guard could catch up to him, and kick the shit out of him. And he probably wasn’t going to be arrested. They’d just ban him from the store, right? “Sir, would you please come with-“

Another man came up behind him, his voice deep and authoritative. Eduard was scared, too stiff to turn and look.

“Hey. Is there a problem?”

“No, no, just-“

“I’m a cop. I can take it from here.”

The young man looked up at him, as if considering his options. As if wondering if his weekend job was really worth the effort of dragging this guy into a back room to wait and do things the official way.

“Thank you, officer.”

Eduard’s blood ran cold.

“Show me what you have.”

Refusing to meet either pair of eyes, Eduard took the sandwich and chocolate bars out, one by one. He handed them to the shelf-stacker. He considered keeping the spam, but the cop was massive and could probably break him, so he handed that over too. 

Satisfied, the cop nodded. “Come with me.”

He escorted him out. Maybe he’d have had a chance escaping a supermarket. Prison was another thing entirely. His hand was firm on his shoulder as he marched past shelves, through the automatic doors, and swiftly let go the moment they were out of sight.

“Sorry about that, mate.”

Eduard touched his shoulder where he’d grabbed it, squinting. “What?”

“About making you empty all your stuff out. Had to make it believable.”

“Right, right. What?”

The cop laughed. “They rarely ask for a badge if they don’t care. And that guy definitely didn’t.”

“So you’re…”

“Not a pig, no. Not anymore. You’re safe, don’t worry.”

“You were, uh…”

“Lying, yeah. Again, really sorry about your food. I can make it up to you if you want.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I want to. Where are you staying?”

“Why do you wanna know?”

“To help. If that’s alright.”

“How?”

“A bed for the night. Or a few nights. A meal.”

He dithered.

“Look, I get it, stranger danger. But I can help you, and I want to. If you want me to.” He shrugged. “Seems like it would help you more than arresting you.”

Common sense weighed against his hunger. “It would. If you’re sure.”

 

* * *

 

Eduard couldn’t believe a man with a 9-year-old daughter was letting a homeless stranger stay in his flat. There had to be something else going on.

The three of them were crowded round a rickety table in the corner of the main room. The girl - Harriet - looked at him. Stared at him. She didn’t know what to make of him, and he couldn’t blame her. He didn’t want to think about what he must have looked like, dirty and wolfing down his food like it was his first meal in months - which maybe it was, though he’d long since lost track of time. 

He’d turned down Logan’s suggestion of a shower. He may have been hasty in accepting his help, but he wasn’t an idiot. He wasn’t about to get naked under his roof, give him a full preview. 

If this whole place was like the last time, then he wanted to know just what a small child was doing here. Or maybe he didn’t. No - he definitely didn’t. But he could guess. 

“How was school?”

“Not bad. We learnt multiplication.”

Maybe it wasn’t as cruel as he assumed. Maybe she was just there to lull him into a false sense of security. You could trust a parent with a little girl, especially one like Harry, well taken care of and happy, learning multiplication and smiling at her dad like that. He was almost offended at the lack of care put into the script.  _ Multiplication? _ That’s right, keep it vague. Keep it believable. Then they’d have him, right?

And really, who looked at their kid like that anyway? Logan smiled at Harry like she was coming first in a marathon when she was only dipping frozen chicken nuggets in ketchup. No parent actually looked at their kids like that, no matter what stories said.

“Is the whole business with Lina over?”

She nodded, skewering a kebab of curly fries onto her fork. “Mhmm. She gave Princess Cheesy back and I gave her kitty back.”

“Good, good. So, no more fighting?”

“No more fighting.”

“Good. Eduard, you settling in alright?”

Eduard nodded, mouth full of nugget. “Yeah. Thank you so much. This food is amazing.” He was raised to have no option other than polite, and it was delicious. 

“I just threw it in the oven.”

He raised his eyebrows. “More than can be said for most of what I’ve eaten lately.”

“Well, there’s more if you want it.”

He nodded, but it felt greedy. He didn’t like to ask for seconds, but the longer this went on, the longer the illusion of safety would last.

Logan piled more chicken nuggets onto his plate, then picked at the curly fries Harry didn’t want, and Eduard ate in silence. He’d always been a slow eater. Now that the blood was flowing in his body again, the ravenous desperation subsiding, he was more than happy to take his time. He savoured them, knowing it may be his only chance to do it.

Harry sat at the coffee table on the other side of the room and drew, whipping out a box of 50 colouring pencils like she meant business. Right, get her out of the way. When she left the room, he knew it was going to happen.

When he was finished, Logan took his plate and washed it up. Nothing else happened. 

Logan turned to him, awkwardly hovering by the sink. 

“Wanna watch TV?”

Eduard had no idea how to respond.

“Or you can get cleaned up and go to sleep.”

He nodded. It was bound to happen. But Logan left him to it and sat down to watch some nature show. Was he supposed to get clean before anything happened? Were other people showing up later?

After ten minutes of silence, Harry walked over to him and handed him a drawing. It was a decent drawing, for a child, he guessed, of a hairy, messy - apparently smelly from the lines coming from him - homeless man.

“It’s you.” She didn’t need to tell him that, but she did anyway. Last time he’d seen himself in the mirror had been at a client’s house, checking a bruise on his neck, but it was still obvious.

“Thank you,” he said in a small voice. Did she do this for everyone, or was he the first person they’d lured here?

He hated the stubble she’d drawn on. He could feel how rough and patchy it was, and missed shaving. Logan would probably force him to shave it, make him look younger and prettier.

Logan looked over his shoulder. “Harry! Don’t draw smell lines on people!”

“But he’s stinky!”

He put his hands on his hips. “That’s very rude. Say sorry!”

She groaned. “Sorry.”

She was right, though. Or maybe it was a ploy to get him in the shower. He really wanted one, though.

 

* * *

 

Eduard was freshly showered, and still apparently safe. He stepped into the box room, having said goodnight to Logan, in pyjamas far too big for him and a pair of woolly socks Logan had never used, apparently. Because who needed woolly socks in Australia?

It did get ridiculously cold at night, though, and Eduard would probably take anything just to not be sleeping in a tent.

As he slipped under the duvet, something warm brushed against his butt. He jumped, and pulled out a hot water bottle.

And that was when he broke.

He hugged it tightly against its chest like it was the only source of heat in a frozen wasteland, as something caught in his throat. He had almost forgotten how it felt to cry. Things just stopped bothering him. But this, this tiny gesture, this faded red hot water bottle with its threadbare cover,  _ this  _ was what broke him. Call it what you will - compassion, attention to detail, lulling him into a false sense of security, it left him curled up on the bed sobbing. He cried until his eyes could barely stay open with exhaustion.

He didn’t want to let his guard down and sleep, but as soon as he curled up around the water bottle and his head hit the pillow, he was gone.

 

* * *

 

Maybe it was best he shouldn’t stay.

The sun hadn’t begun rising yet, but a grey light was filtering through the windows. Out of habit, Eduard felt for his bag, held with him all night under the covers. Not stolen. Not necessarily an indicator of safety.

His tent was still on top, for some reason, and he wasn’t freezing or boiling. He bolted up and found himself in his new room, under a heavy duvet, water bottle next to him.

It had seemed like a dream, to be honest. The kind where he’d wake up, forget where he was, and, when he remembered, reality ate at his will to live just a little more. Sometimes, he dreamed he had a family. Sometimes he dreamed about Evelin.

He needed to leave before he was trapped.

He slipped a coat on over his pyjamas and searched for his shoes, then put his bag on his back and slipped out of the room.

He found his clothes - cleaned for the first time since he put them on, probably - on the radiator. There was still a lingering smell of B.O., but they were crisp and warm and not covered months worth of dirt. Eduard had always hated being dirty. He hated grimy conditions, but recent circumstances had made that the least of his problems. He packed the clothes away in his bag.

He didn’t want to steal from Logan, not when the man had only given him reasons to trust him, so far, but he doubted the supermarket would be so forgiving if they saw him again.

He looked in the cupboards and pulled out tins of soup and mackerel. He could last on that, then, maybe, the taste of living in a real home where he was safe, and throwing it all away in fear, would finally push him over the edge. 

“If you stick around, I’ll do you a fry-up.”

Eduard yelped and jumped, dropping tins all over the floor. Logan was leaning against the door, looking at him in amusement. Now he was in for it. At best, Logan would throw him out, at worst… well, he was definitely trapped now.

“I’m sorry,” he squeaked, picking up the tins, “I’m sorry, I- I’m sorry! I just-”

“I get it. Look, stay here a bit. I promise, it’s okay. At least until you get a job and somewhere to stay. You don’t have to do this.”

“Why are you being so nice to me?” he asked, a lump in his throat. “What do you want? What sort of thing are you running here?”

“Running- nothing. Look, I’m just trying to help. I like helping people. That’s why I became a cop, and, well, I think this way is gonna help more people. One at a time, but, well, would a criminal record help you?”

He put the last one back in the cupboard. “There’s food in prison too.”

“I’m not sending you to prison.”

He turned to him. “You don’t know anything about me, and you’re letting me live with you? With your kid? What if I’m dangerous?”

“I know you’ve been handed some rough cards and you need a hand.”

“This isn’t a hand, this is a whole arm. You’re inviting a crazy stranger into your house with a kid. I’m not going to hurt her but I question your judgment.”

“You’re not gonna hurt her?”

“Course not.”

“Then I’m satisfied.”

“That’s  _ exactly _ what someone who’d hurt your kid would say, though. You really think I’m trustworthy?”

“I mean, if something did happen, I know you know I’d break you in half easily. But also, you seen trustworthy.”

Eduard squirmed. He wasn’t.

“So, want some breakfast?”

His stomach rumbled and he sighed.

 

* * *

 

 

“Can I use your computer?”

“Sure, go ahead.”

A night had turned into two, into three, into a week. He hadn’t been trapped yet. It would be a weird gambit to play, to keep him safe for this long. He wondered what he was playing at.

Eduard sat at the desk at Logan’s old PC and set up a throwaway email address. It was a long shot - he doubted she still used the same address from when she was 15- but it was something.

 

_ Evie, _

 

No.

 

_ Evelin, _

 

Also bad. He’d never called her Evelin in his life. Oh well. She knew who she was.

 

_ I’m safe. _

 

But was he, though? Logan may have worn him down, but he wasn’t that naïve. Maybe he was playing a long game, trying to break him emotionally by betraying him.

 

_ I’m alive. _

 

After all this time, there was so much he had to say to her. And so much more he never wanted her to know. What would she say, he thought, if she saw him now? Maybe the less he said the better. He always was good at being concise.

 

_ I’m alive. I love you. Don’t look for me. _

_ Eduard. _


	2. The Case

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Little bit of OzSey in this chapter, with both nyo and regular Oz. Plus TW for mentioned homophobia. 
> 
> Names:  
> Jemima- Nyo Australia  
> Bian- Vietnam  
> Angie- Seychelles  
> Hunapo- New Zealand  
> Ndedi- Cameroon  
> Gunner- Denmark

Jem smiled brightly at an old lady, who scowled in return at the piercings and tattoos that covered her body, not to mention the mess of electric blue spikes that was her hair. She’d only dyed it last night. She was quite fond of how it turned out. 

“Didn’t your mummy tell you it’s rude to stare?” said Jem, sticking out her studded tongue. She clicked it against her teeth and the old woman went on her way.

Bean Bag Coffee was the kitschy sort of cafe that only existed in out-of-the way places where not a lot happened. A bus ride away was the town centre, where her brother and niece lived, but she and the band lived out here. It was dull, but it was cheaper. Besides, the more old ladies her look pissed off, the better. And it wasn’t as dull as the family home, out in the middle of nowhere.

She took a bite out of a chocolate chip cookie and swung her boots onto the table, waiting for him to turn up. What Bean Bag lacked in food quality was more than made up for in 60s music and cherry-printed cushion cases. It wasn’t her scene, but it was close by, and with her driving ban and her vanished bike and Bian getting pretty fucking sick of being her taxi, that had to take priority. Of course, she could have invited Logan to the flat, but she didn’t want him blabbing to mum about the mess. It’s not like his place was better. It’s just that he had a child living with him and she just had her and the band. Five people was more than two, but mum would still make a fuss.

He came through the door and sat next to her.

“You alright, piggy?”

“Piss off.”

“Yes sir.” She swung her legs back down to give a waitress room to put her coffee, and also because she was looking at her funny.

“How’s the band?”

“Not bad. Bian’s gig-planning at the moment. She figured out the rest of us suck at it.”

“Even Angie?”

“She has a real job. How’s the kid?”

He smiled fondly. “Still a nightmare.”

“That’s my girl.”

“Got someone else staying too.”

“You took in another cat?”

“What? No. A guy.”

“You can just say you found a fuckbuddy, you know, it’s what most of our conversations amount to.”

“No, no, he’s not- he’s just a guy. Homeless guy.”

“What, so homeless people can’t fuck?”

“No, I didn’t-”

“The dehumanisation of the homeless is a serious problem, Logan.”

“No, I know that, I-”

“So why wouldn’t you be fucking a homeless guy?”

“I’m- it’s not that I’m not fucking-”

“So you  _ are _ fucking the homeless guy?”

“You know what, you’re the one making fun of me for fucking a homeless guy, which I didn’t, I am not the classist here.”

“I’m not! I just wanted to know why him being homeless made him less fuckable! And you’ll always be a class traitor.”

“It doesn’t make him- he’s just a guy staying in my house, who I’m not fucking. Shut up and let me talk.”

“Alright, tell me about this homeless guy in your house who you’re not fucking.”

“His name’s Eduard, I saved him from cops.”

“You are cops.”

“I  _ was _ cops.”

“Whatever, piggy.”

“I got fired! Look, the guy was starving and I didn't wanna see him get arrested over a sandwich. So I said he could stay, just until he got a job and his own place. Although, I'll probably come home to find he's stolen all my shit."

“Because he’s-”

“No, not because he’s homeless. Because he’s scared, and feels bad, and he’s used to doing what he has to do to survive. I think he’s settling in, though. Not sure what job he can get yet.” The few things he’d managed to get out of Eduard were that he had no citizenship and no school qualifications in any country. Maybe there was a course he could enroll himself in, whilst doing some part-time job. Logan had already asked at the bar, but they weren’t taking applicants.

But they had to find something, and maybe sort out a work visa too.

“And you’re not fucking him?”

“No!"

"I bet you wanna. I mean, you'd bone anything, but I'm guessing he's young and conventionally attractive, and not a screaming meth head."

"Look, what do you want?” 

“My bike got stolen last week. I don’t wanna get someone arrested for stealing a bike, but I’d like it back. And you have those oinky, snuffling-up-truffles skills.”

Logan nodded and pulled out a tiny notebook. “Okay, one missing bike, bright pink, little basket on the front and those sparkly streamer things coming out the handle.”

“You’re hilarious.”

“Yes I am. Thanks for acknowledging it.”

“What’s with the notebook?”

“Notes.”

“Didn’t know you could write.”

He glanced at her. “Do you want my help?”

“Yeah. Look, I’m not expecting anything, but if anyone can find it, you can.”

“Fine, fine, but you owe me one. When did it go missing?”

“Monday night.”

“Any sign of theft?”

“The thief had removed the front tire, the one with the lock around it. You can come by and look at it, if you want.”

“Will do. Any possible witnesses? Suspects?”

Jem bit her lip. “Erszi had a guy over that night.”

“Who has a one-night stand on a Monday?”

“Erszi. But I saw him waiting for the bus around the time I found it missing. No bike.”

“Anyone else? Neighbours?”

“I mean, Huna lives downstairs and they know everything. I’d say they’re a start.”

“Nice! Haven’t seem ‘em in ages!”

* * *

Eduard didn’t know what to make of Hunapo. They were small, with thick, curly hair and a mischievous grin. They were sprawled on Logan’s sofa, sipping a tall glass of Pepsi with both hands.

Logan's sister had popped round a few days ago. Eduard was a little scared of her, not only because she could easily knock him out with a punch, but because she'd felt the need to comment on how attractive he was, with a conspicuous glance at Logan.

And he'd only just started to trust him.

He’d had to ask about Jem’s tattoos, though, particularly the “All Cops Are Bastards” one. Yes, Logan had been a police detective at the time, and had even gone with her to the tattoo parlour.

Hunapo sat on the sofa, legs dangling over the back.

“So you think I stole the bike, bro?”

“No, Huna, I just wanna know if you know someone who would.”

“Well, I didn’t see anything, but I know some people who have a habit of lifting bikes, for the thrill and to sell on. But you’re not gonna go giving their names to the pigs, are you?”

“No, I keep away from them now. You know that.”

“Just making sure. Some of them are good kids. Stupid, but not out to hurt anyone. Others, well… I’m easily breakable. You get it, Ed, was it? Twink solidarity.”

Eduard nodded, trying to pretend he wasn't interested. This was Logan's business, but any mention of crime made him nervous. Then again, the criminals he had experience with had higher scope than stealing bikes.

“Gunner Densen, lives on the Johnson Estate and has a thing selling coke. He gets about on bike, can go all day. Presumably after snorting.”

“Thanks, now I’m imagining a crackhead cycling round like an Olympian with a massive fucking grin,” said Logan. “Should be easy to find.”

“Not at Johnson Estate,” Hunapo grimaced.

Eduard tried to get on with the washing up; he owed Logan the housework, at the very least. But he wanted to be involved in the exciting thing. Feel like a part of something for once.

“So tell me about your new friend,” Hunapo smiled at Eduard, gesturing at him to sit down. He did so, trying to hide his excitement. They wanted him to sit with them!

“He’s just staying with me until he gets back on his feet. He hasn’t been in the best of situations, so…”

“I was homeless,” Eduard supplied, “He caught me stealing and he took me in.”

“That’s Logan for you.”

“Oh, c’mon-”

“It’s a compliment!” They grinned at Eduard. “He and I go way back. Best friends, me and him.”

“I used to arrest them for drunk and disorderlies and a whole lot of tagging,” Logan clarified.

“Best friends, see?”

“We are now, I reckon.”

“Always have been.”

“Well…”

“Always.”

“If you say so, mate.”

"Only cop with a sense of humour," Hunapo told Eduard. “Well, him and Ndedi. How is he?”

“Not bad. Got another cat.” Logan smiled. "Hunapo here used to pay for parking fines with spare change in donut boxes." 

“Don’t forget about the origami pigs! Put effort into those!”

"This is why the police don’t take cash payment. And why they beat the shit outta you."

Eduard blinked.

“They beat the shit out of me because they couldn’t handle a little joke.”

""Resisting arrest" was the official reason."

Eduard glanced between the two, fascinated and horrified. 

“I was loitering, apparently,” said Hunapo, “I asked for the guy to explain, and he starts beating me. Kept me in holding overnight with a broken rib. Among other things. He was from the same station as Logs, so I’m guessing he was already looking for a reason to start on me.”

Logan looked away uncomfortably.

“Logs never told you why he left the force, huh?” Eduard shook his head. “He wanted justice for me, because we’re best friends. Only person to believe the weed they’d found on me was planted.”

“Well yeah,” said Logan, “if you could afford weed, you’d have already smoked it.”

“See? Best friends. And he’s a good guy, for a pig. Like, joined the police to actually help people and stuff.” They smiled at Logan and he blushed in return. “He rescued body cam footage he was supposed to destroy, took statements, compiled all this evidence, then passed it to a friend of his sister’s. Angie. Worked doing little silly articles freelance. The evidence he gave her became this story that just blew up. She got snapped up by a big paper, and Logan got fired.”

Ed’s eyes widened. “You were fired?”

“Yep. And nothing came of my case, but  _ fuck  _ it made the pigs look bad.”

“So, not necessarily a success.”

“Except for Angie.”

Hunapo snorted. “Yes, we’re all very proud of you for sleeping with the journalist.”

“Jealous?”

“Mate, have you seen her and Jem? She isn’t into you.”

“They’re just bandmates!”

“Nah, nah, she’s all over your sister. It’s kinda sweet.”

“Has Jem actually said anything to her?”

“Not that I know.”

He rolled his eyes. “Typical. She’s fearless, except when it comes to asking women out. Guess that makes me technically the braver sibling.”

“Nah, bro, you’re just shameless.” Hunapo nudged Eduard. “Would bone anyone, this mad cunt.”

“I was put on this earth to fuck and help people.”

“Can confirm you’ve done both. To me, at least.”

Eduard had never been around openly LGBT people before. Sure, he’d met men who’d pay boys for some creepy fantasy, or kids with nowhere to go, carrying their shame with them to the homeless shelters, but never like this - never just people existing in the world, happy and comfortable and out. He wasn’t sure how it went here, but back home it was unheard of. You could take the boy out of the obscure Estonian town, but you couldn’t take the obscure Estonian town out of the boy.

He looked between them. “You…”

“Just a casual thing. A while back. I’m out of his league.”

Logan grinned. “Keep telling yourself that.”

“Not even in the same sport, mate.”

Eduard cleared his throat. “This Gunner guy.”

“Oh, yeah! Yeah, I’m not telling you where he lives, but he’s on Johnson Estate. Please don’t go getting police. He’s an alright guy. Doesn’t deserve jail time.”

“I know. I just want Jem’s bike back. And maybe get him some leaflets for help with the drugging.”

“Like, if you wanna bully him into getting his life back on track, I’m not gonna stop you. I like him but the guy’s a fucking idiot.”


	3. The Dealer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now that Pretend's almost done, we'll probably be doing more work on this. Hopefully.

“What was that about?”

Eduard looked up from his washing up. He wasn’t angry, just curious. But he  _ could  _ get angry. “Hm?”

“Getting all involved and stuff.” He cleared his throat and switched to a painfully inaccurate approximation of his accent. “Sooo… this  _ Gunner _ guy…”

He shook his head, scrubbing at a pan. “You don’t sound Estonian.”

“Not even a little bit?”

“Way too expressive.”

Logan snorted. He took a plate off the drying rack and started wiping it with a tea towel. “You interested?”

“In the case?”

“Yeah.” He leaned on the counter as he dried it off. “I’m going looking for him tonight. I was just wondering if, uh, if maybe…”

“Maybe?”

“If maybe you wanted to tag along? I mean, if you’re interested. And you must be going stir crazy staying here all day. Might do you good to get some fresh air.”

“Aw, let me live. I’ve had enough fresh air in the last couple months. Plus you have air conditioning in here. I’m not built for the Australian heat. I definitely have skin cancer.”

“It’ll be in the evening anyway. Little cooler.”

“Sure. I’ll come.”

“Good. Jem can watch Harry. She loves that kid, even if she isn’t the best influence.”

Logan usually got Jem to watch Harry, or a babysitter picked her up from school. He didn’t trust Eduard with her yet, not even slightly, but Eduard wasn’t so fussed. He’d never been good with children, even as a child. Or adults, really.

“So, Hunapo, is he-“

“They.”

“Right. What?”

“They’re non-binary.”

“Right. I’m not- I know… the vague idea. Some gay kids in shelters and stuff. I don’t even talk to them, I just overhear stuff. But I’m trying to be better with this sort of thing, I’m just… what’s the word?“

“Sheltered?”

“Yeah.”

Logan picked up a glass and dried it off. “Yeah, they’re not a boy or a girl. They’re just doing their thing.”

“Right.” Eduard made a mental note to find a less annoying way to look into it. “And you lost your job for them?”

“And I don’t regret it. My mate Ndedi, he helped out, but he got Ange to keep him anonymous. I kinda wanted my name on it, to make a big statement, but… well, it didn’t work out. Still. Good to get out of it.”

“How so?”

“It’s all true, what Jem says, all cops are bastards. Except Ndedi. He’s trying to fix things from the inside. And even he’s still a cop. But the way they treat him, and the way they treated me, what with him being black and me being aboriginal, it’s… y’know, I don’t mind so much not working there anymore.”

Eduard thought about it. “Is it more dangerous, not being able to play the cop card?”

Logan shrugged. “I guess. I mean, people are gonna be bitches anyway. And if the cop in question didn’t know me already, they’re not gonna believe me if I’m off duty and tell them I’m on the force too. It’s just that I’m slightly more likely to be arrested now.”

“Hey, at least the supermarket guy believed you.”

“Yeah,” Logan smiled. “Bit of food’s done you good. Got some colour back. As in, blood colour, not sunburn colour.”

“Hopefully not too much, or the police might start beating me up.”

Logan snorted. “Yeah, you’re a long way off, unless they don’t like your accent. Or just be openly LGBT.”

Eduard tried not to look too uncomfortable.

“Sorry.”

“No, no, it’s fine. I, uh, I’m straight, I think.”

“You think?”

“Yeah, I am.”

“Then I guess you’re safe.”

“I mean, the “homeless” of it all doesn’t help.”

“Well, you can get back on your feet now, yeah?”

“Yeah. Yeah. Sorry about… I mean, I’ve been looking at jobs. Applying for stuff.”

“Anything?”

“Nothing yet. Something about needing to have finished school and have qualifications.”

Logan nodded. “Maybe you… need to finish school. You could do it online or go to some adult class.”

“I’ve looked into it. Maybe I will.” But that was more time he’d be spending at Logan’s. Unable to work and contribute and just leave them in peace. But even if he had a job, would Logan expect him to hand over all the money? Eduard hated this. He’d always been good at making people money, but the one time he wanted to help out of his own accord, and there was nothing legal.

“I mean, you’re smart. You just don’t have the qualifications.”

“I’m not  _ that  _ smart.”

“Do you really have nothing? You’re 26, right, you must have been doing something all this time.” He often tried to ask where Eduard came from, not always in such a beat-around-the-bush way, but Eduard wasn’t sure he was ready to talk about it. Would he ever? If he got everything together - or not - and left, he wouldn’t have to. The idea of becoming a permanent fixture in Logan’s life was completely foreign, even if they’d settled into a routine.

“Nah.” He shifted. Logan decided not to pry.

“Right. Well, there has to be something. Let’s not give up just yet.”

“Maybe we should,” Eduard sighed, “look, I appreciate everything you’ve done, but I’m not worth it. I can’t get a job, I’m just a drain.”

“I don’t believe that,” said Logan, “I’m sure you’ll get back on your feet, and until then you’re welcome here.”

“But-”

“Look, how about you come with me, do a bit of investigating? We’ll find Jem’s bike, and then see how you feel.”

Eduard thought about it, then nodded. “Okay.”

* * *

Gunner, it turned out, wasn’t so difficult to find. Mostly because he cycled right into them.

Logan had just stepped into Johnson Estate, Eduard trailing behind, when Gunner’s bike crashed right into his side.

“I’m so sorry!” cried Gunner, “I didn’t see you! Like, I  _ saw  _ you but my brain didn’t click and... yeah-” He scrambled to get himself and his bike back up. “Sorry!”

Logan brushed himself off. “It’s fine.” 

Eduard caught up. “Logan? Are you okay?”

Logan nodded, giving Eduard a meaningful glance. “Just got crashed into by this guy, that’s all.”

Eduard gave the man a once-over. He fit Hunapo’s description well.

“I’m really sor-”

“It’s okay, man. How bout you buy us a coffee and we’ll say no more.”

“I’d love to, man, but I gotta make a delivery.”

“Delivery?”

“Yeah,” his eyes shifted, “real urgent.”

Logan glanced at Ed, “what kind of delivery?”

“I… sell Avon.”

“You know, we’re not cops.”

“Oh thank fuck, I actually sell coke. Literally would rather admit to that than selling Avon.”

Logan nodded. “I get that.”

“Anyway, we just want to talk.” Would Gunner punch Eduard? He looked like he could.

“Yeah, that bike you just crashed into me with, that’s my little sister’s bike.” Before Gunner could respond, Logan had him in a headlock. Gunner yelped, pulling out a pocket knife. Eduard grabbed his arm and wrestled it out of his hand before he could put it in Logan.

“Stop it! Get off!”

Eduard put the knife in his pocket and took the bike a few steps back. “We’ll be taking this.”

“No!”

The desperation in his voice almost convinced Logan to loosen his grip.

“Please, man, I need this. The- the boss isn’t gonna let me do this one late.”

“We’re not going without the bike,” Eduard warned him. 

Logan, to Eduard’s surprise, ignored him. “What do you mean, the boss?”

“I’ve fucked up enough, man, I already owe him big time.” Gunner looked like he’d faint, “he said he’d kill me.”

“Why?”

“And- and if I ran away, he’d kill my family.”

“Your family?”

“I’ve got kids, man, I- be cool.”

“Yeah, that’s what I call my sperms too,” said Logan. Eduard wondered if he should point out to Logan that he had an actual kid.

“Nah, mate, human kids. They go to school and everything!” Gunner was panicking now, “my boss says he’ll get them as they come out of school! I just need to make this delivery on time, I swear.”

Logan groaned. “Fine, fine. But you better give us your bike after. And we want to talk. Look, you’re not in trouble. We just… we want in.”

Gunner raised an eyebrow. “Nice try, undercover pig.”

“It’s not like- We really need the money.”

Eduard put his hand on Logan’s shoulder, silently telling him to let him do the talking. “My friend here’s a little new to this, excuse his manners.”

Logan couldn’t help but smile at the word “friend”, though Eduard’s sudden charisma caught him off guard. All of a sudden he could have been one of the guys he used to chase after, rough around the edges like the Eduard he still barely knew, but confident too. Like it was second nature to him. 

“We have some things to discuss with your boss. Important things. Bigger things than whatever it is the guy’s delivery boy did to piss him off.”

“Bigger?”

“Might be enough to get him in a better mood. Let a few bygones be bygones.”

Logan looked at him. There was a lot about Eduard he still didn’t know; was letting him in the same house as Harry a good idea after all?

Gunner bit at his lip. “Bygones, huh?”

“Clean slate,” Eduard promised, “And all you need to do is hand that bike over.”

“Why are you so fussed about the bike?”

“It belongs to this man’s sister,” said Eduard, “you stole it off her.”

“Thought you were doing dealings with him. Why are you fussed about-”

“Wind your neck in, Mr Densen.”

Gunner nodded. He looked like he was struggling under the weight of Eduard’s authoritative voice. Logan was right there with him. The fact that Eduard knew his name didn’t seem to be lost on him. “Look, please, you’ll sort things out, right?”

“Everything will be fine,” Eduard promised, “why don’t you run along home?”

Gunner hesitated, then ran.

Logan raised his eyebrows at Eduard once he was out of earshot. “How did you just...”

“Same thing you did with the supermarket guy,” he shrugged, “People want to know someone else will handle it.”

“We don’t have anything to offer a drug dealer.”

Eduard walked along. “He doesn’t know that.”

“So you just… lied to him?”

“Well, he isn’t gonna see us again.”

“What about his kids?”

Eduard thought it over. “Not our problem.”

“Not our  _ problem? _ What if he kills them?”

“Try not to think about it too much.”

“Well I’m thinking about it.” Logan stopped, checking the basket. Gunner had left a duffel bag in it, filled with smaller bags of cocaine, and an address written on the back of a receipt. He couldn’t say Gunner was the best man for the job.

“It’s a warehouse, in the industrial estate outta town,” he noted. “Where things are stored, or made?” 

Eduard looked at him. “So?”

Logan rolled his eyes. “So, whoever Gunner works for could be there.”

“So we return the coke like good citizens?”

“No. We go stop this dealer. I dunno how. I have a mate on the force that is actually chill; maybe we can grab a load of evidence and get him in prison.”

“Why? What’s it to us?”

“Dude, he’s fucking over at least one family. This isn’t a bit of weed,” he held open the bag for him, “this is a fuckload of seriously deadly shit.”

“Well if you wanted to do something about it, you should’ve stayed a cop.” Eduard walked away. “It’s not our problem.”

“Well I’m making it my problem.”

“Why?”

“Because I want to help! This guy needs a break, right?” Logan rested Jem’s bike against a wall, and began pacing the alley outside the estate. “He’s trapped by this dealer prick. This guy is completely under his control, and going to die if we don’t do something.”

“He might not,” mumbled Eduard, fidgeting nervously. “Look, can’t we just go home and forget about it?”

“I wouldn’t be able to. It’ll be in the back of my mind for the rest of my life if I didn’t do something.” Logan hesitated for just a moment, then handed him the house keys. “I’m gonna do something. Meet you at home later.”

He got on the bike and set off. Eduard groaned. There was no use talking him out of it, and he didn’t want Logan going off on his own.

“Wait! I’m coming with you!”


End file.
